


Sniffing You Out

by thegirlwhoknits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Steter - Freeform, Steter endgame, Werewolf!Stiles, angst and ridiculous fluff, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of shameless fluff really. Stiles gets hit by a car and Scott turns him to save his life. Peter starts avoiding Stiles because Stiles and Derek have been dating and he doesn't want Stiles to realize Peter's his mate. Fluff, mild angst, fluff, smut, fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sniffing You Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a bit of feel-good Steter fluff really. I hope you enjoy it; if you do please leave kudos and comments on the way out! You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://bitchinachinashop.tumblr.com/)!

“So, how’d your date with Derek go?” Scott asked through a mouthful of crumbs. “This is like what, your third?”

“Yep.” Stiles leaned back in his chair at the coffee house, looking thoughtful. “It was nice? I mean, he’s definitely super-hot, and it’s actually fun spending time with him outside of life-or-death situations. And he’s a _really_ good kisser, no complaints there.  I’m not gonna say it’s true love, but I’m definitely looking forward to getting to second base. Maybe third.” He waggled his eyebrows as Scott groaned.

“That was _so_ not an image I needed etched into my brain.”

“Just think of it as karma, dude. I still know way more about Allison than I ever needed to.” Stiles glanced at his phone, checking for messages from Derek, and almost fell out of his chair. “Shit, I gotta run. I’ve got a class in twenty, all the way over in Emerson.”  He slugged back the rest of the coffee and shouldered his backpack.  “See you tonight!”

Scott was done with classes for the day, but he’d finished his coffee, so he started to pack up. Maybe he could stop by the student union before heading back to the apartment.  Technically Beacon Hills University was close enough for both of them to live at home, but they wanted the full independence of the college experience. Plus, Stiles had suggested that if they weren’t around all the time, the Sheriff and Melissa might get their acts together and ‘keep each other company.’

He was zipping up his backpack when he heard the screeching of tires in the parking lot and a loud _thump._   He hit the door running as a woman started to scream.

 

Stiles lay sprawled on the pavement, unconscious.  A stream of blood trickled from his forehead, and his left arm at least was clearly broken.  Scott was nearly overwhelmed by his pain when he tried to take some of it.  The women who’d screamed was already dialing 911, but he was all too familiar with their response time this far from the hospital.  He had a sinking feeling that Stiles didn’t have that long to wait.

“Ma’am,” he called to the woman as she hung up her cell phone, “Can you go inside and ask them for a towel?  I want to try and stop the bleeding while we wait for the ambulance.”

She nodded frantically and went back inside. Thankfully the coffee shop wasn’t busy at that time of day, so Scott was alone with his best friend for the moment.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for this,” he whispered as he shoved down Stiles’ Henley and bit him on the shoulder.

 

Stiles woke up in the hospital feeling like he had the worst hangover of his life.  The entire Pack was crowded in there with him, with the exception of Peter, Lydia, and Allison.  Almost identical expressions of relief washed over all their faces.

“Thank God you’re awake, man.  I wasn’t sure if it took or not,” Scott said, squeezing his hand.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha. “You weren’t sure if what took?” A wave of panic washed over him when Scott looked down at his shoulder, a guilty expression on his face.  “Scott? What did you do?” he asked, a note of hysteria slipping into his voice.

“He gave you the Bite to save your life,” Melissa took him, walking through the door with his chart in hand.  “And from the description of your injuries the paramedics gave, it’s a good thing he was there.  You wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it to the ER.”

“Oh crap,” Stiles said weakly, and passed out.

 

The next time he woke up Derek was there, alone. Stiles smiled up at him weakly as the older werewolf handed him his clothes.  “Somehow I didn’t think this was how I’d end up undressed in front of you.”

Derek huffed out a quiet laugh.  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes full of concern. “I know this wasn’t something you wanted. Scott’s worried you won’t forgive him.”

“What a dumbass. Does he really think I’d rather be dead?” Stiles said incredulously as he pulled his t-shirt on. “And as for how I feel, a little disoriented I guess? The enhanced smelling and hearing is definitely _not_ an advantage in this place.” He wrinkled his nose.

“You’ll get used to it; after a while it becomes easier to tune things out when you don’t want to notice them.”

Stiles nodded. “So how come you’re here to take me home instead of my dad?”

Derek looked a little uncomfortable. “Your dad wanted to be here, but they got a tip on the guy that ran you down and took off.  And…I’m not exactly taking you home.”

“Where exactly are you taking me then?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“I want you to stay at the loft for a few days.  The full moon is this weekend; it’s a tough time to be a newly-turned werewolf.  Scott and I are going to try to help you with your control.”

“Derek Hale, are you asking me to move in with you?  Gee, I don’t know, this might be moving a little fast for me,” he teased. Derek swatted at the back of his head and grinned.  “Wait, you and Scott are going to teach me?  What about Peter?  I mean, sorry, I don’t mean you guys don’t know what you’re doing, just…Peter’s control is pretty rock-solid, especially after the whole resurrection thing. And he’s pretty good at explaining things in Stiles-speak.”

Derek looked pained. “I don’t actually know where Peter is,” he admitted.  “I called him after you got hit to let him know what happened, and I expected him to meet us at the hospital, but he didn’t show up, and I can’t get a hold of him.”

Stiles frowned. It was true that Peter had a habit of disappearing whenever he felt like it, but he and Stiles had sort of gotten to be friends.  He’d usually pick up when Stiles called, even if he weren’t interested in speaking to the other Pack members. He didn’t want to seem self-absorbed, but it did seem a little weird that he’d fall off the face of the earth at a time like this.

“Maybe the whole hospital thing freaked him out?” he guessed.  “Scott said my phone was toast, so I’ll have to wait to try giving him a call.  He’ll probably be back at the loft when we get there, though.”

 

Peter wasn’t at the loft when they got there, but the rest of the Pack was. They refrained from yelling, “Surprise!” when he walked through the door—which would have been a lost cause anyway, since he could now hear their heartbeats—but the space was clearly decorated for a “Congratulations You’re a Werewolf” party.

A wave of warmth washed through Stiles as he made his way through the apartment, each member of the Pack taking the time to hug and not-so-subtly scent him.  He’d always known that everyone in that room had his back, but he’d never felt a part of things so viscerally before.  He could _feel_ every person, like they were part of him.  Even the humans, though they were a little more distant. And having them all in one place made it feel like home.

Only there was a piece missing. He kept looking around for Peter, thinking he’d seen him out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look it was only Isaac or Scott.  He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that the older werewolf wasn’t there, but it was like an itch at the back of his mind.  And _why_ wasn’t he there? Stiles’ dad was taking care of the hit-and-run driver; he’d called Derek to let him they’d caught the guy and booked him.

Was he angry because Stiles had been turned? That didn’t make any sense, though—he’d offered him the Bite way back in the beginning, and he’d maintained since then that Stiles would make a good werewolf any time the subject came up.

He wasn’t aware that his wandering thoughts had taken his body with them until Derek came up behind him, where he was curled up in Peter’s favorite armchair.  “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Stiles tilted his head back and offered him a small smile. “Yeah, mostly. I think I’m just a little tired?  It’s been kind of an eventful day.”

Derek nodded.  “I’ll get everyone to clear out.  The bathroom’s upstairs if you want to get cleaned up in the meantime.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me just say goodbye to everyone.”  He threaded his way through the party again, giving everyone hugs and thanking them for being there for him.  There may have been a few tears along the way, especially when he reassured Scott that he wasn’t upset with him at all, just happy to be alive.

Derek had laid out a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt in the bathroom for him.  He lingered in the shower, relishing the warmth of the water on his skin, feeling out his new senses.  He extended his hearing, partly to see how far it went and partly to see if any of the Pack were still left cleaning up. He didn’t really want to go downstairs while they were still around; it felt strangely intimate to be in Derek’s shower.

He could hear two voices in the loft, and he was about to tune out again when he realized one of them was Peter’s.

He left the shower on and crept towards the door, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was eavesdropping.  The two werewolves seemed to be alternating between intense whispering and shouting.

“…tell him, Peter!” Derek said.

“I’ve already made…to stay with Cora’s Pack,” Peter replied. His voice sounded muffled somehow. “…too much away from you, Derek. I won’t take this too.”

“For...sake, Peter, we’ve been on _three dates,_ we’re not married.  I’m pretty…will survive.”

The voices lapsed into a pointed silence, and Stiles realized that his heart was thumping in his chest, probably clearly audible to the other werewolves in the loft.

“You may as well come down, Stiles,” Derek called up.  Stiles cursed and tried to scramble into his clothes as quickly as possible, ending up with his t-shirt on backwards and only one sock—the other one had completely disappeared. He _swore_ sock gnomes were totally a thing, no matter what Deaton said.

“I’m not discussing this further,” he heard Peter say coldly as he started down the spiral stairs. “I’ll write to you from Argentina.”

“ _SIT DOWN, PETER,”_ Derek growled. Halfway down the stairs, Stiles was shocked to see Derek actually pinning his uncle to a chair, his claws digging into the older man’s shoulder. “You are going to stop being ridiculous and trying to run away, and _talk to Stiles._   I’ll be outside.  And _please_ remember there’s a spare bedroom upstairs.”  He was striding out of the loft and slamming the door shut behind him before either of them could protest.

“What the hell is going on, Peter?” Stiles demanded.  Peter slumped in the chair, staring at the ground. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen the werewolf look defeated before. It didn’t suit him.

“I’m leaving Beacon Hills,” he said stubbornly. “I’ve made arrangements to join Cora’s Pack in Argentina.  It’s better for everyone,” he added cryptically.

“Better for everyone my ass!” Stiles shouted. “It’s not better for the Pack; you know more about, well, _everything_ than any of us.”

Peter got up from the chair and moved towards the door, still refusing to meet Stiles’ eyes. “I’ll leave my research materials in the apartment, you have the key. You can do what you’d like with them. And if necessary, Derek can phone me in Argentina.”

For some reason Stiles felt like his stomach was dropping out through his feet. “Peter,” he whispered, ducking his head to try to catch the man’s eye. “Why are you doing this? Please don’t leave.”

Peter made a pained noise and dug his claws into the sides of his black jeans. “I have to, Stiles. I’ll only be…in the way, here.”

“You’re _not_ in the way, Peter, we need you. I need you.” Stiles felt tears streaming down his face now. He could feel his heart breaking, and he didn’t know why. “Please don’t leave me, Peter.”

Peter finally looked at him with wild blue eyes. “Stiles, I can’t stay. You and Derek deserve to be happy, I can’t get in the way of that.”

Stiles shook his head, utterly bewildered. “Get in the way of what? Peter, Derek and I have only been dating for a couple of weeks; we don’t even know if we really like each other that way yet. And how would you be in the way?” Realization began to dawn on him, and Stiles suddenly felt very slow.  “Are you…are you saying you have feelings for me?”

Peter snorted with such derision that Stiles blushed. Okay, that was clearly stupid, why the hell would Peter be interested in a gawky, spastic teenager. Hell, he still wasn’t sure exactly why Derek seemed to find him attractive. Maybe he was getting a big head.

“No, Stiles, I don’t have _feelings_ for you. If it were that simple, I’d just drown myself in some wolfsbane scotch for a few days and get over it.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward, crowding into Stiles’ space. “Stiles, I’ve known almost since I met you that were meant to be my mate. It’s a werewolf thing, it doesn’t happen often, but it’s a very strong bond, and once both parties are aware of it it’s nearly irreversible.  You couldn’t sense it when you were human, but when Derek told me Scott had turned you, I knew spending any time around you would risk causing the bond to set. And I’m not…Stiles, I’m not any good.  I haven’t been stable since the fire, I don’t know that I ever really will be. And I’m much older than you, and you and Derek…”

Stiles huffed irritably. “There is no me and Derek, stop using that as an excuse. You’re afraid of having someone to lose again, so you’re running away. Don’t fucking sugarcoat it, don’t pretend this is some great sacrifice you’re making for your nephew or me.”

“Dammit, Stiles, this _is_ for you. Do you think this is easy for me?” Peter growled.

Stiles put his hand against Peter’s cheek and met his eyes. “No, I know it’s not easy for you. I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But I’m not letting you run away from this.” He leaned in and kissed Peter softly, just brushing his lips against the other man’s. The itch in the back of his mind quieted, and he felt suddenly content, like the last piece of a puzzle had just slotted into place.

“Wow. I see what you mean,” he said wonderingly.

Peter stared at him. “Stiles, are you sure this is what you want?  I can still leave; it would be painful but with time and distance the bond would eventually fade.”

“Yes, Creeperwolf, I’m sure.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Who’s going to snark with me if you leave, anyway? No one else can touch my epic levels of sass.”

“There’s always Isaac,” Peter suggested playfully.

“Scarf boy? Please,” Stiles snorted. “He wouldn’t know a double entendre if it smacked him on the ass.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Peter said thoughtfully, peering over Stiles’ shoulder to stare at his ass.

“BEDROOM UPSTAIRS!” they heard Derek yell from outside the door. “And I’m going to stay with Scott; you have twenty-four hours, at least be dressed when I get back.”

Stiles and Peter laughed.

 

They made it all the way upstairs only by Stiles refusing to kiss Peter until they’d reached the spare bedroom and closed the door. “For real, Peter, Derek’ll kill us if we don’t.”

Once they were there, it took a surprising amount of time for them to get undressed. Stiles kept getting distracted by his newly enhanced senses, spending minutes at a time scenting and nibbling at different parts of his mate’s body, which Peter did nothing at all to discourage. “God Peter, why do you smell so good?” Stiles asked, dropping to his knees while Peter leaned heavily against the wall.

“Pheromones,” he panted as the teenager scrabbled at his zipper. “Mates…smell good to each other.”

“Holy shit.” Stiles shoved Peter’s skin-tight jeans down his calves with some difficulty, and the werewolf managed to wriggle his feet out of them.  Stiles wasted no time running his long fingers over every inch of newly-exposed skin, following them closely with his mouth.  Peter’s skin was warm, and it smelled like home. He wanted to get as close as he possibly could.  He explored the curve of every muscle, wondering at the power and resilience behind them.

Peter’s legs shook with the effort it took to remain standing. “Bed,” he said, tugging on Stiles’ hair to get his attention. “Stiles.”

Biting back a whine, his mate reluctantly stood and let Peter strip off his clothes with ruthless efficiency before manhandling him backwards onto the bed.  This time it was Peter’s turn to linger, tracing lines between Stiles’ moles and sucking so many marks into his neck and shoulders he probably looked like he’d been mauled. At the same time he rocked slowly against his mate, occasionally dipping to kiss away the moans falling from Stiles’ mouth.

Even as unfocused as they were, it didn’t take long for them to come, tumbling one after the other like dominos.  Stiles lay still as long as he could with Peter’s weight on him, but finally he needed to breathe. He shoved at the older werewolf, intending to gently encourage him to move, instead pushing him entirely off the bed.

“Oops,” he said, peering over the edge of the bed at Peter, who lay on the floor in an untidy heap. “Still getting used to the whole werewolf strength, thing, sorry!” He grinned, Peter responded with a glare, and Stiles broke into a fit of helpless giggles.  Peter growled at him as he picked himself up, then launched onto the bed and begin tickling his mate mercilessly.

“Ahhh!” Stiles screamed. “No…Peter!  Argh, need to…breathe,” he gasped out.  The tickling morphed into a kind of aggressive cuddling, until eventually Stiles found himself on his side, Peter’s body wrapped around him possessively.

“I didn’t dare think I’d ever have this,” he said quietly. Stiles sobered, grabbing one of Peter’s hands and raising it to his lips.

“Me either,” he admitted. “But I’m glad I get to have it with you.”


End file.
